


Solaris

by birdsandivory



Category: Final Fantasy XV, Final Fantasy XV: Brotherhood
Genre: Friends to Lovers, Kisses, M/M, Mentions of Pouting, Mentions of Promptio, Prompto Taking Photos, Sweetness, young!ignis, young!noctis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-21
Updated: 2018-10-21
Packaged: 2019-01-05 09:29:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12187374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/birdsandivory/pseuds/birdsandivory
Summary: There was so little time to dwell on the past, so little time to wish things hadn't changed between them - there was so little time, and yet, all he could think about was the soft and gentle press of lips and the warmth Noctis had always provided him.In which Ignis laments over the loss of affection from Noctis and takes matters into his own hands.





	Solaris

**Author's Note:**

> This is a prompt written up by [@sternentreue](http://sternentreue.tumblr.com) on tumblr, which I swooped in and volunteered myself into filling because I couldn't quite resist the chance to depict younger versions of Noctis and Ignis. I do hope she enjoys it, as well as the rest of you. Please leave a review, if you will, or kudos! I like both equally.
> 
> Prompt: Young Noctis planting tiny, affectionate baby smooches on Young Ignis until he becomes older and embarrassed by the ordeal, ending it and leaving Ignis incredibly sad.
> 
> If you have any prompts or requests of your own, please feel free to stop by my [Tumblr](http://birdsandivory.tumblr.com) page and submit. I'll get to it as soon as I possibly can!

_"Why are you looking for love?_

_Why are you still searching, as if I'm not enough?_

_To where will you go, child?_

_Tell me, where will you run?"_

_\- By Your Side, Tenth Avenue North_

It had all begun ever so innocently.

They had met some months before Noctis had turned six in their earlier years, Ignis a mature eight, the way he sat so dignified and unbothered in the presence of the king left most of the maids giggling - muttering about how fine a man he would become one day, proper and groomed for the service of royalty. However, in those months since he'd first greeted the boy he would one day serve as confidant to, he could hardly care what any thought of him - so long as he did his job and kept young Noctis happy. It was more than a duty instilled as a learned behavior from birth, but a goal he had given himself, an ending to keep striving for like that of crossing a finish line.

Victory, in the simplest of senses, an affirmation of worth.

Such duties were far too stressful for that of an eight year old, but his singular thought of  _"Noctis, Noctis, Noctis,"_  could not leave him alone long enough to keep to that of others, not when he'd never quite known just what it was to be a child of the norm - not when his mother had whispered of reverence and importance, and consequence, for they could never stray from their duty. And he found he did not need to, for when he was not thinking of the prince, the boy was there, pulling him into his room to play or watch a film that was far from educational.

It was as such at that very moment, and he hadn't noticed he'd shifted his attention to the elaborate wall decor until an ebony blur obscured his vision - a light pressure betwixt his brows, skewing his spectacles, the angular edges rubbing against his temples. It took but a few seconds to realize that the younger boy was in his lap, knees digging into his thighs uncomfortably, and a few moments more to understand just what had commenced.

The prince had  _kissed_  him.

It had been short, delicate, an act so quick that he could have believed it to be a figment of his imagination. Ignis had easily relaxed then, casting aside his wayward thoughts in order to gaze upon his prince curiously, a light dusting of pink across his own soft cheeks.

"Huh?" Eight year old tongue not quite poised for eloquent strings of words, his surprised exclamation sufficed, the boy smiling joyfully before him with a bounce upon his person.

"Boo-boo!"

"What are you talking about?" Pudgy fingers reached forward, chubby index pressing to the wrinkled furrow of his brows, a common contortion for those between the ages of thirty and beyond - however, they made themselves present whenever he was thinking too much, a habit he started as soon as he and Noctis had become acquainted.

"You have a boo-boo. Right! There!"

The finger upon the crease poked irritatingly at each word, though he could hardly feel anything but the gentle stirring within his chest at the other's actions. It had taken only a moment for his expression to soften, lips curling into a smile for his tiny charge.

"Well, then. I guess you've fixed it for me."

Noctis' beaming face sent him over the moon.

* * *

Soon after the incident, the prince had fallen into the habit of giving kisses to Ignis each and every day, and quite often at that - claiming he was mending wounds with each press of the lips; a subtle frown, the crease between his eyes from frustration, the way he scrunched up his nose in distaste. Each small nuisance was met with a sweet kiss from Noctis himself, and it was something the young, bespectacled boy did not really find odd - despite the fact that he had no such experience with anyone else in the realm of friendship.

Ignis had never though much of it, they were children, after all.

However, it had been something he'd grown to appreciate at the tender age of eleven, when he'd received his first scolding. Truly, he should have never listened to the rebellious nine year old, but Noctis looked terribly sweet, wanting to go out into the gardens in the middle of the night. It was his eyes, the young advisor swore, the way they got him to say yes to all of the other's whims, pulling him along even though he knew well the consequences -  _if_  they were caught.

And, of course, they had been.

Ignis had never expected there to be any danger, not while he was there to protect the prince, small fingers curled around his own as they'd walked over to a quiet pond with scattered lilies floating about the water's surface. Noctis had been so curious then, mentioning going fishing once or twice in the future as a few wiggling fish nibbled at his fingers. Ignis had looked on affectionately, his still cherubic cheeks lighting up at the boy's enjoyment, one of the only things he truly loved when it came to his duty.

He did not expect one of the nursemaids to come up behind Ignis and pull a cloth over his nose and mouth, or for the world to turn a dastardly shade of black all around him, his senses dulled as he lost consciousness.

And when he had come to and properly recovered, he'd found out the woman had been imprisoned by old Drautos himself, and with great embarrassment - he endured a scolding from his mother, Clarus, the Glaive Captain, and the king in the audience hall, reminded of all of his responsibilities.

Later on, Noctis had insisted he spend the night in his room, and it was the first time Ignis had ever felt truly ashamed - fingers reaching up to wipe his tearful eyes as he kept his back to the little prince beside him in the bed.

But His Highness would not have any of it, crawling over to lie before him - even though there was far more room on the other side of the mattress - and his small hands pulled Ignis' glasses from his face, fingers surely smudging the lenses in their grasp. The older boy looked surprised at first, but he could faintly see the line of Noctis' smile, princely hands taking hold of his cheeks - downright squishing them as lips pressed awkwardly to his forehead. And they refused to end there, the tender kisses making way down the bridge of his nose, a small bit of laughter escaping the younger as he made a quiet smooching noise against his skin.

There was a moment later in the night in which Noctis looked sad, leaning forward to wrap around Ignis' body, a small sniffle heard as an even smaller  _"I'm sorry, Iggy"_  made itself known.

Ignis decided then that he would not have done a single thing differently.

* * *

Ignis had been fifteen when they had shared their first true kiss.

Noctis' thirteenth birthday had been a treasured event for all of Insomnia, though the prince himself was never quite one for large parties and having to speak and entertain people he did not know, his father always insisted - and so, great festivities had been held. After all, as a charming and cheeky glaive had exclaimed to Noctis as he patted the teen's shoulder, he would " _only hit his teeny weenies once."_

Neither the prince nor Ignis heard from him after that, for a one Nyx Ulric had quickly dashed for the tables lined with bottles of wines and spirits.

Despite the lavish gifts and forced smiles in what he was sure were hundreds upon hundreds of photographs, Noctis had become bored of it all rather quickly, and had run off into the Citadel - wishing only to hide away in his chambers until the rest of the world retired for the night themselves. And the advisor, responsible for his safety as he was, could only follow behind with a neatly wrapped package behind his back in the hopes that they could share a bit of time together.

When he'd laid eyes upon the boy, he was sitting cross-legged in his large bed, phone in his hand as he furiously tapped away at the screen - whether he was texting Gladiolus or playing King's Knight, he did not know, but it mattered not as crystalline eyes locked with his own and a hand beckoned him to sit beside the prince. And he did so with the utmost grace, hands revealing themselves slowly, the gift placed between the both of them as Noctis sighed.

"Specs..."

"It is but one gift, Noct. Open it."

There had been a moment of silence, and Ignis knew that his friend had tired of opening meaningless gifts of frilly colognes and expensive training gear, and though he had considered much of the glaive and the staff important - he did not wish for such things, as they only reminded him that he would one day be a man. However, the confidant had a certain feeling that he would not mind his own little wrapped package, tentative fingers having reached forward to take it into his hands. "Fine. But this is the last one."

"You have my word, Highness."

"Noct." Pulling the package toward himself, they both exchanged a smile.

"You have my word, Noct."

Less than elegantly, the prince ripped the paper and bow from his gift, eyes alighting immediately when he looked to the cover of the video game Ignis had purchased just days before. "The new Assassin's Creed? Oh, man, I've been drooling over the trailers for  _weeks_!"

"I had thought you'd like it."

"It's great! Thanks, Specs!" The game was promptly tossed aside, Ignis having reached down to grab a bit of wrapping paper that had fallen to the ground when Noctis began to move towards him, lips having been aimed toward his cheek - had the advisor not turned his head, of course.

Their lips met in a shower of sparks and he knew it was an accident, but still, he could not deny how warm and soft Noctis' lips felt against his own. Both of them sat unmoving, frozen in time during the short kiss, eyes wide and lips doing nothing to accept nor turn away the affection. And Ignis had been the first to break from their joining, visage surely as red and flustered as the prince's own, and in an attempt to regain his composure - he cleared his throat, turning away from the other boy. "Well, you are most certainly welcome."

They did not speak of the occurrence after that day.

* * *

It was the end of Noctis' fifteenth year that he began to see a change.

He had become rather used to it, waking the prince each morning for school, the other begrudgingly climbing out of bed after much chiding and effort - stepping over to him and tossing a heavy arm around his shoulders, brief kiss being pressed to his cheek, the boy walking passed him as quickly as he came to.

It was a pleasure he indulged in, though never returned, as there was far too much consequence in such an action. And he had not thought too much of it, no, they were simply the closest of friends.

The closest.

However, something had gone awry then, for the gentle signs of affection became few; a kiss to the jaw every  _other_  morning, a peck to the brow every couple of weeks when studying became particularly tedious, but it was nothing like before. Such a thing seemed to hold less weight over time, as if each kiss were more half-hearted than the last.

For a fair amount of time, Ignis believed the prince's new friend - Prompto - was the reason for the loss of affection, Noctis seeming to enjoy his new company far more than the advisor's own. And, wounded for the while, Ignis was sure to make it known that the blond's acceptance relied solely on the bespectacled man's approval.

He rather enjoyed the look of fear on Prompto's face, for a time.

The trouble the two had gotten into from then on was more than they both were truly worth, and more often than not, Ignis had been lucky enough to catch them in the acts of mischief - those not so subtle lines appearing on his face as he looked to them sternly, Prompto first to crumble beneath such a gaze, and Noctis soon following. The advisor knew, of course, that they were simply boys and a bit of fun was of little consequence to them both - if just to keep them youthful and jubilant before they were forced to grow up.

It was more than overwhelming to remember the fact that it was once  _he_  whom had accompanied the prince when a wild idea sprung about, holding to him tightly as they ran into forbidden territories. Even if he had been against most ideas, he had always followed and never once truly told him that he could not do something that he wished to, though it had gotten Ignis into a fair bit of trouble.

He did not mind.

It left him to wonder, briefly, when that had changed.

* * *

It was not until the end of the prince's eighteenth year that he realized he was terribly in love with him. And by then, the kisses had been rare until they had ended altogether, for when he awoke the prince each day, he was greeted with naught but a _'hey, specs'_ and a groan indicating his distaste for the early morning. And there was no mending the crease of his frown, or the furrowing of his brow that made him appear older than he was, there was no hum reverberating against his cheek when the man believed he was being humorous.

There was simply the empty realization that he'd lost any lingering love that he had pretended lied between them.

Everything continued normally from there forward.

Ignis could not help but feel the distance grow between himself and Noctis, Prompto taking the role of best friend rather easily and frankly, he felt cheated - having earned that title from birth only to have it stolen away. However, Ignis was all too polite and honest a man, and even he could not deny the way the happy-go-lucky blond grew on him. With the prince's shield in tow sooner rather than later, he could not cast aside the face that they were all inseparable friends, friends he appreciated and cared for all the same.

Looking longingly Noctis' way would have to suffice, he forlornly believed.

It left him in such a state of unease, still, as the years passed. Why, not even on his next few birthdays did he receive a kiss on the nose or a peck to the cheek, only a simple wish from a flustered face in a notion that he could not begin to understand.

It was suffocating, to look on as each year passed ever so slowly, when the company of just two became four and the situations they were thrust into became increasingly dire. And still, how trivial the thought was, those cherished kisses - how trivial, knowing that the King of Lucis had passed, the prince in mourning and the only thing he could think about was the lost press of lips.

The thought lingered as he put away the rest of his cooking supplies, Prompto giving him a wave as he was pulled rather savagely into the tent by Gladiolus, the large man complaining about getting enough rest and wishing to go on a hunt in the morning. By the terribly concealed giggling coming from the both of them, Ignis was sure that neither of them were going to bother sleeping, though he was rather glad that they had got on so well over the years - even at the expense of his innocence.

The advisor was also pleased he'd invested in getting separate tents, the eventual development of the two's relationship calling for it more often than not.

Their incessant humor was of a less than respectable volume, but Ignis simply sighed and shook his head, tugging his gloves back onto slender fingers as he'd completed his tasks. The days had been long and less jovial, so he supposed that they deserved whatever moment of happiness they could get their hands on, and he understood such a thing - knowing Gladiolus had spent much of the earlier portion of the week in a state of melancholy over the loss of his father and the fact that he was acting the least bit normally was more of a relief than Ignis could have asked for.

They could only really handle one mourning man, and Noctis was certainly a handful.

The fire had yet to be put down, though he decided to keep it warming overnight, gaze traveling to the visage of the future king pondering over the flame - looking solemn and distant despite being close enough to touch. Ignis was rather certain that Noctis would not be sleeping anytime soon, his young mind surely plagued with his father's untimely death. And how young he appeared, the advisor's mind returning to their earlier years when the younger's brooding was as endearing as it was sad.

Still, this was different.

It was another knife to his heart, a twisted edge that could not be removed by means of curative, for it was an empathy he only shared with Noctis. It was a reminder that he could not heal the hurt in his heart, that they were not as close as they once were, that this was not a _'boo-boo'_ he could mend with a kiss - for in this particular point in time, affection like that was not allowed. It was a knife that dared to plunge deeper if he did not speak wisdom and logic instead of heartfelt sympathy, and though Ignis was a man who loved the sharp and deadly tongue of a blade more than most, he did not want for the carving of his own flesh any more than he wanted to erase the memories of sweet healing pecks.

So, he did not speak.

His future king was less than excited about his role as savior, he knew, the look on his face hardly comforting the coiling unease in Ignis' gut. There were no words he could possibly say that would make any real difference; he could whisper apologies for actions that were not his and it would do nothing to sew the strings of Noctis' heart any more than they would his own. As a man and confidant, he was tailored to his charge's every need, but as a friend - he was as lost as they all were, and so it would only make sense that he would run on whim, if only in one moment of time.

Tentative steps padded forward, Noctis hardly batting an eye as he reached the prince's chair, the other's elbows having been rested on his knees - hands folded over a quivering mouth. And how his glare could rival that of Ifrit himself, challenging the flame as if he wished to burn within its tendrils.

Ignis would have nothing of it.

Carefully, gently, he placed a comforting hand on the man's shoulder - ever his right hand - and moved so swiftly before him, lowering himself to one knee, silent as the other's expression morphed into wide-eyed surprise.

It bothered him not.

This was to be his contribution, his act of mourning as the rest of them had theirs, whether in form of weeping or anger - he would have his. And once again, it would be for the one in which all of his actions were for, his prince.

Gloved hands reached up slowly, one dancing along the man's pale cheek and the other against the soft flesh of his throat, bringing him ever closer. And with a gentleness only Ignis could provide despite his frigid demeanor, he placed a tender kiss upon the future king's brow, feather light and affectionate.

He should have known better, of course, than to attempt speaking so soon after they had separated - his plush lips having parted to say but the simple syllables of the man's name just before his arms were filled, grasping hands wrinkling his perfectly pressed blazer as warm, watery breaths wafted against his jaw. And it was then that he knew his purpose, holding the prince to him tightly as he sobbed silently into his shoulder, picking up the pieces of a newly broken man. It was truly an honor and his pleasure to tenderly mend all that had been shattered, even if it meant leaving scars behind; it was his job, his duty, and he realized that after all of the time he'd spent lamenting over having lost his relationship with Noctis, he failed to see that it had never truly changed.

Noctis was still a boy trying to find his way, and Ignis was still a man trying to pave that path.

However selfish his thoughts had been before, it mattered not in that time and place, the ebony locks of the one he loved tickling his flesh as he attempted to pull himself together - not quite lifting his face to look to him, simply holding on, taking solace in the salvation he had been presented with. And Ignis wondered, if only _all_  things that harmed them so could be mended easily, with just a tender brushing of fingers along the spine and chapped lips to a weary temple. He knew such a thing not to be true, however, for scars tended to whisper tales of memories that should be long forgotten whenever the wearer of them was on his last legs - and he did not believe Noctis would be safe from that in the future.

But for the time being, he could shield him with all that he had.

And when it was time for sleep, long into the black of night, he led the future king with all of the gentleness he could muster to their tent - not bothering to sleep until the weight against him had evened out in breathing, cheeks stained with tears no longer abused by the dam. Even then, it took him the better part of the hour, afraid that if he closed his eyes for even a moment - everything he had gained in those few moments would be forgotten, and the distance would grow once more, smiles and tears not being reserved for his own any longer.

However, his body had betrayed him and he was forced to close his eyes.

And that morning, when he awoke before all others, he looked to Noctis with an expression he had never unleashed to the outside world - a sadness he could not quite bear to allow overtake him, knowing that it was truly the end.

It was not until he was cooking breakfast that his mind had been forced to believe otherwise, Noctis stepping out of his tent and marching toward him during hours so early, Ignis had reason to think him ill. And he had thought so foolishly that he simply might have been famished from not wishing to eat the night before, turning to him to ask for his patience, if just for once. However, the only response he received was the younger man taking him by the lapels for a breath-stealing kiss that would surely leave him light-headed for the hours following.

It was a confusion he had not expected to experience, the way the man's lips actually  _moved_  against his own, or the fact that they were not wide-eyed teenagers - eyes slipping closed and cooking utensils falling freely to the filthy haven ground, something he would sort of regret later, just for the ability to wind his arms like a vice around the prince's waist. And it was understood that, perhaps and for the first time in his life - he would argue - that he was incorrect about his fears, that the very moment he was sharing with Noctis was unavoidable and imminent.

It was heavenly.

The flash of a camera had pulled them from their kiss, Ignis not particularly minding the snapshot Prompto so cleverly took, looking to them with a smirk and a knowing glance he did not care to put his finger on. However, Noctis seemed more intent on revenge than he, a loud expletive and shout of the blond's name was followed by a barrage of photographs being taken as they made chase around camp - though not without a gaze from the prince, a promise that they would speak of more pressing topics later on.

Looking to the fire that had burned strongly overnight, the bespectacled advisor smiled as a semblance of peace washed over him.

Everything was as it should be.

**Author's Note:**

> "I don't quite understand. If you've always felt this way, what changed?"
> 
> The young prince sighed, reaching up to rub the back of his neck as his cheeks took on a lovely scarlet, the shrug of his shoulders betrayed by his flustered reaction. "Just. Prompto started teasing me about it, you know? And then I started questioning if you even liked me that way or just dealt with it because you always have."
> 
> "You could have asked me."
> 
> "Do you not know the definition of embarrassment, Specs?"


End file.
